False Dreams
by aela alytaia
Summary: A demigod dreams of reality, of messages from gods and moments past, present, and future. A mortal dreams of fantasies and fears, of wishes and terrors. So how does a demigod tell the difference between a prophetic vision and their subconscious imagination?


My story. Not my characters.

* * *

"_Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot." Neil Gaiman_

* * *

The rain trickles from the soft blanket of clouds pulled over the midnight sky.

Percy breathes, and the frigid sea air salts his sinuses and throat. A flash of light sears red, followed by a distant hollow boom. With a slow sigh, Percy stops searching the sky and leans toward the sea, almost slipping from his perched seat on the ship bow railing.

The harbor depths swirl, lapping their lullaby on the plasteel hull. A glittering detonation of green reflects up from within the murky fathoms. The waters will be warmer, he knows, he can dive right in. He's waiting for nothing here, alone on the sailboat.

A flash of silver-white interrupts his musings, and Percy swings off the rails back onto the deck. The ship sharpens into focus as his blood rushes; a presence brushes at the edge of his awareness. Another smattering of lights burst behind him, casting his silhouette before him in blue, orange, purple.

With a glance and a tug in his gut, the sail furls up the central mast. The boat lists as the anchor falls free, and the thud as it hits the seabed reverberates through the ship. Percy peers at the ship cabin, but he can't see through the polarized windows.

Percy circles the deck, making his way to the cabin door with careful treads. A hand at the door, he hesitates … then enters.

The firework lights are muted within the dark cabin, the empty wheel at the front highlighted hue after hue. The desk is filled with maps on top of maps curling upon each other.

For a moment, the room is bathed in silver as another firework rumbles in the distance, revealing a blanketed outline in the bed.

He smells honeysuckle and jasmine.

"You're here."

Soft laughter tickles his ears, and a swell of warmth fills his chest. "Where else would I be, Perseus?"

"Not outside," Percy replies, approaching. "It's too cloudy…"

The woman curls to face him, auburn hair shifting atop the fluffy heaven of pillows, her body hidden beneath the blankets. His breath hitches as her silver eyes catch his. Her arm, pale and pure, sneaks free from the covers to pat the space beside her.

Percy smiles and sits. Their fingers brush, then his hand trails further to caress the skin along her arm. As he reaches the blanket, he squints, unsure of what he sees in the shadows. He draws the white sheets away from her shoulder, revealing a silver crescent that adorned her shoulder. It was bare and brilliant, almost glowing with light. "This is new."

She looks up from playing with the bottom of his shirt. Then she withdraws, pulling the blanket back over her. "Your hand is cold."

Her mouth is hidden by the blanket, but her eyes radiate mischief. Percy pouts and scoots closer to caress her bed-tousled hair. "I've missed seeing you."

"I know." He can see the smirk in her eyes before she closes them, savoring his ministrations.

Percy continues for a few moments, enjoying combing through the auburn silk. Then her fingers wrap around his wrist and she pulls, tugging him down beside her.

"If you're going to do this, join me properly," she orders. Her eyes flare silver; his clothes vanish. She lifts the blanket and he slips underneath.

Silver and sea-green locks together. Their breathing is accompanied by the music of rasping sheets, of pattering rain, of rolling waves, of muted fireworks. Her arms slink around and cradle him, while his hands find their way around her waist and wrap around her in return. Their legs entangle as they draw ever closer, bare skin on skin. The soft heat of her chest rubs against his front, their heartbeats sync.

Then she turns away and snuggles back into him, letting his embrace envelop her.

His nerves calm as he focuses solely on her: auburn satin brushes against his face and chest; earthy flowering almond adorns her skin. The rise and fall of her chest presses into and withdraws from his embrace as she breathes. Percy is content to _rest_.

Then she shifts and takes his hand, opening it to look at his palm. "This is new."

"Hm?" Percy looks over her shoulder at his hand and blinks when he sees a blue-green wave tattooed there. He glances down at the silver crescent on her shoulder and brings the two together. They complement: the empty space of the crescent moon is filled by the wave, like pieces of a circular puzzle. "Did you …?"

"Of course." Her smugness is palpable.

"Why?" He tries to sit up, to lean over and look at her. He fails.

"You're mine, after all." She takes his hand and wraps his arm around her again.

"But I can wait," she murmurs, settling back into his chest. "It's time for you to wake."

The fireworks fill the room with silver, forcing Percy to close his eyes. The rain swells to a deafening crescendo, smothering all else. Percy shifts and tightens, feeling the blanket around him.

Then the light and sound cease.

Percy takes a deep, shuddering breath and opens his eyes. His dorm greets him, the morning light of New Rome shining through the window.

He's wrapped in sheets, wrapped around nothing.

Percy yanks his arm free from the blanket and stares at his palm. For a moment he sees the wave etched into his skin.

Then it's gone.


End file.
